


Travel Sickness

by G0th_Husband



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, One Shot, Pretty boy is a sadist, Raikov goes to Groznyj-Grad, Random Bursts of Violence, Rated M for Latter Half, Threats of Violence, Very subtle Volgin/Raikov, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G0th_Husband/pseuds/G0th_Husband
Summary: Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov is being brought back to Groznyj-Grad after being away for a few days. Unfortunately, it doesn't turn out to be the most pleasant experience for anyone involved.
Relationships: Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov/Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin
Kudos: 19





	Travel Sickness

The journey to his Colonel’s fortress had been- in a word- boring.

Boring and repulsive.

Even the scent of the sugar-saturated black tea the major had made himself to ease his weak stomach could not drown out the pungent stench of his chauffeur.

To his left, one Captain Aleksei Prostakov sat at the wheel, reeking of sweat and metal. A dim-witted smile plastered his weathered face, making it perfectly punchable. His gloved fingers tapped at the gear-stick every time the vehicle came to a halt. Its sloppy, mindless rhythm was beginning to drive the major insane.

He placed his teacup into his lap before letting out a cross, high-pitched sigh. The Captain was- naturally- oblivious to the young Major’s frustration. He didn’t know how much more of this idiot’s presence he could take.

Rolling his eyes, he crossed his legs and looked out the window, wiping away the frosty condensation with the sleeve of his overcoat. It was thick. Leather. A gift from the Colonel for “doing so well”. Of course, to that brute that meant adequately punishing the lesser men.

Breaking bones, pulling teeth, gouging eyes. THAT was “doing so well” to the Colonel.

“How much longer?”

He heard the Captain gulp at his question.

“I-I’m sorry, sir?”

“How much longer until we get to Groznyj-Grad, Captain?”

Despite his cold gaze being locked firmly on the snowy dirt road outside, he could practically see the soldier writhe in his seat.

“Oh, uh… At least another 30 minutes, Major Raikov.”

_30 minutes. Half an hour._

As if the past hour and a half hadn’t been painful enough. Sitting in complete silence with this putrid fool. Listening to his inane drumming. Enduring his sickening odour. Watching nothing but baron, wintry plains and forests go by. Now, the major had to survive another 30 minutes.

He took a long, loud sip of his tea, swilling it around in his mouth as if he was going to spit it directly into the Captain’s crotch. Unfortunately, it was barely lukewarm; the idiot would only be uncomfortable at the very least.

He swallowed heavily and faced forward again, watching his elevated, booted foot bounce as they drove over the uneven trail. A few strands of blonde hair were pushed from beneath his hat into his eye by the bumpy road, eliciting a scowl before they were roughly shoved behind his flushed ear.

The major huffed and glanced over to his chauffeur, grimacing as he made eye-contact with that brainless smile of his.

It was time to wipe it off.

“You know,” Raikov began, a strangely harsh tone in his voice, “If I’m late, the Colonel will have your head.”

Prostakov’s grip tightened on the wheel. “I-I’m aware, sir. I’ll get you there by sundown, I promise!”

The major smirked and downed the last of his tea. The sugary sludge that had accumulated at the bottom of his cup slowly crawling its way into his mouth, like ignorant prey.

Ignorant prey just like the Captain.

Raikov walked his fingers next to the window with a smug grin. Each movement carrying weight as if they were kicking the heads off a line of subdued men. He revelled in that thought for a moment before speaking.

“I’m sure you know what happens to soldiers that aren’t up to the Colonel’s standards.”

The Captain let out a nervous chuckle, “Y-Yes, sir, I know all too well.”

“Then you better make sure you get me there quickly, lest you end up a stain on the floor. Not that you’re much better looking than that now anyway!”

The driver tilted his head down in an act of submission, his foot slowly increasing pressure on the accelerator.

-

The drive didn’t get any more tolerable from there.

Even though he knew he’d be back with his Colonel soon enough, Prostakov’s presence didn’t make the situation any better. To make it worse, the Major was starting to get hungry.

“About 15 minutes now, sir!”

_15?_

**_15?!_ **

Barely half the time had passed.

This was insufferable.

Raikov growled under his breath in frustration and turned back to the passenger window.

The view was now reminiscent of a burning landscape. The trees looked black against the orange skies and red clouds as the sun began to set. The Major smiled. The colours reminded him of his Colonel.

Volgin.

Yevgeny.

_Zhenya._

The man he loved.

The man that loved him.

He often fantasized about the Colonel burning whole cities to the ground just for him. Extinguishing lives like they were ants under his heel. Torturing those left alive together.

It would be so romantic.

So dreamy.

Unfortunately, his train of thought was swiftly de-railed by the visceral hacking that was Prostakov clearing his throat.

Raikov took a deep, staggering breath before exhaling as slowly as he could. He glanced at the umber skies one more time before looking down to himself. He just wanted to be back with his Colonel as quickly as possible. The sky had made him needy.

The sky, no- the sunset. The sunset his driver said he’d deliver him by.

Now he had a real reason to be angry. Now he had a real reason to antagonize the Captain. Now he had an idea.

He unbuttoned his overcoat to reveal the olive-green uniform he knew so well. The uniform he prided himself on. He was one of the few at Groznyj-Grad who actually kept it pristine. The Colonel admired that about him. His dedication. His perfect presentation. His knowledge of that fact made the Major smile as he looked to his favourite plaything:

The Makarov sitting comfortably in its holster at his waist.

He was ordered to remove it before getting in the car by a commanding officer, but- since he wasn’t his Colonel- a swift kick to the kneecaps and a knee to the nose from the blonde persuaded him to let it slide.

The Major slowly pulled the gun into his lap, keeping a steely, blue eye on the oblivious Captain. He didn’t want the fool to crash the car, but he still wanted to have some fun with him.

In one swift motion, the gun was against his driver’s head. Nuzzled into the skin by his temple. Ready to blow his brains onto the dashboard at the twitch of a finger.

Prostakov flinched at the sudden cold of metal against his flesh. His eyes desperately switching between the road and his passenger and his hands practically ripping into the steering wheel.

“M-Major?! What- What are y-“

“Shut it.”

“W-What?!”

“I said ‘shut it’, maggot.”

Raikov admired the man’s terrified form as he pushed the gun further against his temple. The Captain’s Adam’s apple trembled in his pale throat, beads of sweat slowly trickling across it. His brown eyes were bloodshot, his weak little heart was probably pounding a mile a minute.

The Major would’ve loved to have heard it. He would’ve loved to have seen it there beneath his rib-cage, pulsing with fear. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have that luxury… yet.

“When did you say you were going to get me there? Before sundown?”

His driver nodded. Well, one would barely call it nodding. The Captain’s head was moreso frantically jerking up and down, desperately trying not to dislodge the Makarov from its place, lest it misfire.

The young blonde smiled and gestured to the window with his free hand.

It was getting dark now.

Prostakov felt his stomach drop.

“I don’t know about you, Captain,” Raikov purred, “But it looks like sundown has already passed. You should’ve worded your promise better.”

He let out an effeminate laugh causing the gun to twitch in his grasp, eliciting a terrified shriek from his driver.

“Now, Mr Captain… You’re going to get me to Groznyj-Grad nice and safe in the next 5 minutes, ok?”

-

The Major was delivered to the fortress at 6:13pm.

28 minutes late.

At the gate stood the hulking form of Colonel Volgin, waiting for his precious pet to walk back into his arms. God knows how long he had been there.

Prostakov slowly exited the car. The barrel of the gun had left a small, but deep indent in the side of his head that throbbed when he moved. He tried not to make eye contact with his angry superior as he walked to the other side of the vehicle. He opened up the passenger side door only for his Major to stomp down on his foot as he stepped out. He concealed any pained yelps as to not draw attention from the Colonel.

Volgin smiled at the sight of the young man before him.

“Ah, Ivan, you’ve finally returned!” He bellowed, walking proudly to his Major, “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.”

He took his lover’s dainty hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it lightly as Raikov looked away dismissively. The older man raised an eyebrow.

“Are you not happy to see me, Vanya?”

“I am, but…”

The young blonde looked up at the Colonel with a cold, demure stare before gesturing to his chauffeur.

“This idiot made me late, Zhenya.”

The Captain stood upright, frozen. He knew he’d be punished when he got back to Groznyj-Grad, but he didn’t think the Major would rat him out straight to the Colonel.

Volgin looked the man up and down, his expression souring the longer he looked at him. He took a single heavy-footed step towards him, causing the lesser soldier to flinch and back into the vehicle.

“Is this true, Captain Prostakov?” He growled, “I knew you were pitiful, but I didn’t know you’d be so useless.”

Raikov grinned. Watching his lover intimidate the repulsive cretin he had to share that journey with filled him with unbridled satisfaction. The only thing on his mind was what his Colonel would do to deal with that disgusting fool.

Prostakov stared helplessly at his superior, his hands firmly on the car behind him.

“S-Sir! Colonel! I swear, I didn’t mean to make him late! I didn’t think it w-“

A loud crack filled the air, followed by the sound of pained, gargled shrieking. The sound of the Captain being cooked alive by Volgin’s wrathful thunder.

The Colonel was holding him by the throat two feet off the ground, his mouth filled with a bubbling mix of saliva and blood. His eyes were burnt into his eyelids, his fingers charred black. If he wasn’t dead by then, he’d wish he was soon enough.

The Major bit his lip longingly at the display. His body growing hot as Volgin dropped the man to the ground in a smoldering pile of flesh and turned to him, his scarred face flecked with viscera.

Raikov let out a loud, triumphant laugh before strutting over to his Colonel, kissing him roughly on the cheek.

“That’ll teach him for making me late.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. Thanks for getting through my little story. This is my first ever fanfic, so hopefully I did a good enough job. I figured I'd add a slightly more straight-laced, cruel spin on Raikov as I've seen a whole bunch of different interpretations, which makes sense since hes only a minor character, but none that show his implied "mild-mannered"-ness. Either way, I hoped you enjoyed it!


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